


Jigen's Halloween

by author203



Series: Jigen's Holidays [1]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: F/M, Fan Service, Fluff, Halloween, Love, Not scary, Romance, THEY SNUGGLE, Yearning, author is in love with a figment of someone else's imagination, character driven, character driven is code for nothing happens, domestic jigen, jigen is my favorite, nothing happens, sort of but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/author203/pseuds/author203
Summary: Jigen spends Halloween night with you.
Relationships: Jigen Daisuke/Original Female Character(s), Jigen Daisuke/Reader, Jigen Daisuke/You
Series: Jigen's Holidays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020765
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Jigen's Halloween

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphireHero2020](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireHero2020/gifts).



> Romance, sort of but not really. Nothing happens. They snuggle. But still reader discretion advised.

**Jigen's Halloween**

What a day. She hated Halloween and everything about it, although she supposed it had no bearing on what she had been through today. It could have happened anytime.

She had spent too much of her day crying in a restroom. Most of her lunch break anyway. Damn these hormones. And damn these circumstances. A major account had been lost, and her boss was on the warpath – throwing out words like useless and incompetent. Words that shouldn't mean anything, they were just words – and untrue ones at that – but they still cut to the very core of her broken heart. She felt so fragile.

Her job did not feel as secure as it had yesterday, and she thought maybe she should spend the evening online – searching for openings, updating her resume.

It was already dark by the time she was allowed to leave the office. She just wanted to be home already. But there was traffic, and it was starting to rain, the lights reflecting off the pavement made it hard to see. Too bright and too dark at the same time. And she caught every single light.

When she finally made the turn into her driveway she froze at the end of it. She could see the lights were on. She didn't remember leaving them on. But she had been in a rush this morning.

She had overslept and it was all down hill from there. Maybe it was just another in the long list of recent mistakes.

But still. She had a feeling.

She dug the mace out of her purse. She had never used it, and hoped she wouldn't have to now. Someone smarter would have called for help. For someone to come check it out. Look in closets and under beds. But she didn't know who to call. And everyone would be busy tonight with their parties and such. She had been invited, of course, but it was a work night and after the day she had just survived – NO.

It was probably nothing. She was grown. She could handle this herself. And besides, she had left a light on before; seeing it shouldn't make her this uneasy.

She parked the car, walked to the door, tried the knob. It was locked. That was a good sign. At least she had remembered that in her haste this morning.

She dug out her keys; went inside.

The kitchen was cleaner than she had left it. The floor swept, the trash taken out.

A cluster of tiny pumpkins and fall blooming flowers in the middle of the table. Candles lit.

She could see the living room from where she stood, and it looked freshly vacuumed. She could hear the rumble of the washer and dryer.

Who would do such a thing? Break in and tidy up? She went down the list of people who might, but decided no – no one she knew would do something like this, especially not tonight.

She stood by the closed door, not knowing what to do or expect, the pepper spray in her hand, ready for almost anything except what actually happened.

He turned the corner into the kitchen and froze when he saw her.

His suit coat was draped over a chair at the table, she noticed now. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he was wearing the apron she kept hanging in her pantry. It was covered in cartoon ponies in rainbow colors and looked absolutely absurd on him, and for the first time that day she wanted to laugh.

In one hand he held a few roses, and with the other he had been scattering their petals in his wake.

He looked exactly as he had the last time she had seen him. Same beard, same fedora, same rugged handsomeness. She blushed a little as he held her gaze.

“You're home a little earlier than I figured you'd be.”

She hadn't moved from the spot by the door. She was almost afraid to. If she moved the spell would be broken, and he would be gone.

“Put that away before you hurt yourself,” he nodded at her hand that held the mace.

She shook her head slightly and moved to put her things away in their usual place. “You scared me.”

He moved toward the stove, and she noticed for the first time the wonderful smell coming from that direction. “That is the theme of this holiday.”

“I don't like to be scared.”

“I'm here now.”

She shrugged out of her coat, hung it on the rack by the door. “I thought someone had broken in.”

“You never did give me a key,” he laughed.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I know.” Jigen tasted whatever he had bubbling on the stove. “Hope you're hungry. Made your favorite.”

“You just treat me so fine,” she giggled. She came to stand behind him, arms around his middle, admiring his culinary skills over his shoulder.

“And after, I have a movie.”

“Not _Crossfire Trail_ again.”

“It's classic.”

“Right, but you still haven't read the book yet.”

She could almost feel him grinning. “How'd you know? That's fine. I have a back up.”

“Nothing scary, I hope.” She hated this holiday, and everything about it. The gruesomeness, the horror, the terrible pranks people pulled in the name of fun. _You should have seen your face_ , they'd laugh when she had honestly thought someone dear to her had died tragically. Awful. The whole idea. She hated Halloween.

“Well, as much as I would love for you to cling to me in your terror,” he said this teasingly, with warmth, “no. It's a favorite. That princess. The one with the hair.”

“Flower gleam and glow?”

“Let your power shine.”

“You remember.” She wasn't sure why that should matter to her, but it did.

He shrugged. “It's catchy.” He turned around to face her, draw her close to him with his long, strong arms. It was so nice, to just stand there, in a warm kitchen, rain splashing against the windows, in the arms of a man she loved.

“You know, _some_ people say animation is for children.” She was thinking of her boss and his condescension when she had had to explain a joke a customer had made in a meeting. It had been an obscure reference, but she had known it and laughed appropriately. Even connected over their favorite episodes and shared trivia about the voice actors. _How childish_ , he had said with disdain.

“The nerve of some people,” he agreed, as he guided her to the table, pulled out her chair. He took off the apron, folded it carefully, laid it on a counter. Went back to dish up her favorite meal. A complicated recipe that required skill and patience. And he had taken the time to find the ingredients, bring them here, make it for her.

He came back, placed plates on the table, sat down across from her. He took his hat off and laid it aside, so she could look him full in the face. He loosened his tie a bit, undid a shirt button or two. He looked right at her and said, “Those kinds of people just aren't bright enough to appreciate the sophistication of visual storytelling.”

It was something she had said before, and he had remembered it. “I love you,” she blurted.

He blushed; hadn't expected that. “So you've said.”

She cleared her throat. Tried to change the subject. “It's a series now. Three seasons.”

He nodded, a little sadly. “We won't have time for that.”

“I know.”

They ate.

She did know. He'd be gone before daylight. And she didn't know when or if she'd ever see him again. She hadn't expected her evening to turn out like this. She didn't much care for surprises, but when it came to him, she'd gladly make exceptions.

He asked about her day, and she burst into tears. He calmed her with gentle words spoken in that smooth baritone that always sent shivers through her.

After eating he offered to wash up, but she said, “Just leave it.” She would think of him later, after he was long gone again, when she ate the leftovers, washed the dishes, wiped the counters.

She changed into jeans and t-shirt. He removed his tie and its clip, left them on the kitchen table next to his hat. They moved to the couch for the movie. He leaned back, and she settled against him, head on his shoulder, his arm around her. He nodded off right before “Rapunzel Knows Best” the best villain song reprise ever written in her opinion.

She was just a little disappointed. She wanted to spend what little time they had together. But she also felt somehow honored that he would feel secure enough, relaxed enough to fall asleep in her presence.

She liked having him here. She felt safe when he was nearby. Ironic, considering he was one of the most dangerous men in the world. She had tried to follow his exploits in the news, but it was always Lupin this, and Lupin that. Inspector Zenigata's analysis of a crime scene. Never anything about him.

She felt safe, but it was dangerous for him to be here. Someone could have seen him come, or might see him leave, and that could start a lot of rumors. She would get awkward questions she would have to fend off with weak excuses and unsatisfactory explanations. Or what if he was followed. He had run across some rough characters in his career, and it would be his worst mistake if he had led one to her door.

But he was careful. He had taken precautions. No one had seen him. No one knew he was here.

She wanted him to stay forever. She wanted him to leave. As good as these surprise visits were, they always just left her wanting more. She wanted to cry again for everything that had happened that day, and for everything she could never have. But she was so happy to see him.

He'd be more comfortable laying down. She slipped from under his arm, went to fetch a pillow and blanket.

She had forgotten the rose petals. She followed them to her bedroom. So, he had had high expectations for the evening. But she had told him, more than once and quite adamantly, that such a thing was sacred, and she was determined to preserve it for her marriage, should she ever have one.

That hope was starting to dim, just a little, and that scared her.

It would break her heart all over again each time he would explain, calmly, rationally, how such a thing was impossible. At least with him. She knew he was right, but it did not stop her from wanting it anyway.

She could have crossed that line. They had had plenty of opportunities, but she couldn't bring herself to. Either everything in life was sacred, or nothing was. And she wasn't sure if she could live in a world where nothing was honored.

She took the pillow and blanket back to the couch, nudged his shoulder so he would lay down. He woke at her touch.

He was on his side, and she snuggled in close, draped the blanket over them.

“Pillow's nice.”

“Welcome.”

They were close. The couch wasn't really made for two people like this. “Here,” he shifted a bit, to lie on his back, pulled her on top of him. She laid with her head on his chest, had his heartbeat solid and steady in her ear. His aftershave filling her nostrils.

“Comfy?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

He moved a hand through her hair, across her shoulder and then found a rhythm, moving slowly up and down her back. It was soothing, like he was petting a cat.

“I've had such a bad day.”

“Sorry.”

“I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here when I needed you. For just being you.”

He chuckled at that. “Same.”

On the television, Flynn was explaining how the kingdom had celebrated for an entire week, and he didn't remember most of it.

She thought how she would always remember this day. How it had been so stressful, so terrible, but how he had come and turned it all around. Made everything better. How this was the only place in the entire world she wanted to be.

Here. With him.

The movie ended, and she clicked a few buttons on the remote to set soft classical music playing. His breath was even and slow and her head rose a little each time he inhaled. His hand slowed, stopped to rest in the center of her back.

This was perfect. She closed her eyes.

She woke up in her bed the next morning, still fully dressed, crushed rose petals beneath her. She sat up knowing he was already gone.

She thought of him, as she got ready for work, and while she was there, and when she got home, and started cleaning the kitchen.

Maybe Halloween wasn't all bad. She wondered if the pumpkins he had left on the table would keep until Thanksgiving.

And she wondered if she might see him then. All she could do was wait and hope.

That's all anyone can do in life. Wait. And hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this after getting a request for a Halloween fic. Thanks for the suggestion/inspiration! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments welcome. :)


End file.
